Day Off. No apologies. No blue ribbons.

It seems like cheating. I am sitting on the couch right now, drinking beer, writing a post about tomorrow. Well, not really tomorrow. Lately, this weekly rant of mine has sort of taken on a life of its own.

When L and I decided to do this thing together, I wasn't quite sure what kind of a role I would play. I had watched her working on her previous blog and saw how thoughtful she was about the whole thing. Even in the smallest posts, her words, every part of it, calculated. Not to mention that she made it look effortless. Easy almost. And then we decided to partner up. She left her little nest and decided to choose the guy who writes and then re-writes two sentence texts to friends. Probably not the most efficient choice she could have made. But, she did it. No pressure, John. No, none at all.

Of course, we have regular brainstorm sessions. Times when we sit and talk about things we'd like to do. Things to try. Her expectations for me. We talk until we are almost busting, and every scrap of paper within reach is covered in illegible chicken scratch. Until our eyes are red from bedtimes long past. We do this because our biggest concern is to be honest about who we are, but still keep it interesting for us individually. Doing it because, to us, it has purpose.

This has really been on my mind lately. Maintaining our own identity and not getting suckered into the politics of the blog-o-whatthefuckever. It is really easy to sit down and blast through
a dozen random blogs and feel like, perhaps you might be missing something. Perhaps, there is some sort of set of rules, that we may not be following. It would seem that there is a formula, and you stick to it, because it works. Well, I am assuming it does. I guess what I am trying to say, is that I think lots of people are full of shit. I would prefer to not be full of shit.

Really though, how can you blame someone for only putting the best of what they do out for the world to see. Especially if they have done it for so long that there are whole relationships based on it. Relationships based on the fact that they will never meet their admirers. The whole thing is based on incessant comment and conversation. Constant patting of backs and blue ribbons. Not good.

It's not good for me, because if this is how it is done, I will fail. Because, if I give a compliment, I genuinely mean it. I you ask me your opinion, I will give it. I cannot and will not spend my time tagging along tugging on coattails telling you you are pretty, or handsome, or that everything you make is the most creative thing I have ever seen. Because, you already knew you looked good, right?

Perhaps I have not been doing it long enough to appreciate my role here. However I can promise you this.

What you see is what you get.
If you come here (to our blog), I appreciate it.
If you come here (to my house, which hopefully you were invited), I promise it will be every bit as dirty as it looks online.
If I consider you a friend online, I consider you one in real life.
I do not use the term friend loosely.

What we are trying to do, is document. We are cataloging so we can look back and be proud of what we have done in our little life here. Unapologetically, real life. Transparent. Head first.